


The Prospect of a Good Lamb Roast

by SerialObsessor (ibelieveinturtles)



Series: Donuts in My Bra and Other Stories [15]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 150 follower prompts, F/M, Fic Giveaway, Gift Fic, Prompt Fic, Sheep, falconshock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinturtles/pseuds/SerialObsessor
Summary: Sam keeps getting lost but now he’s been found





	The Prospect of a Good Lamb Roast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thestanceyg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestanceyg/gifts).



> thestanceyg asked: A7 Darcy/Sam (though any pairing is fine by me!) You deserve ALL THE FOLLOWERS, so congrats you!!
> 
> Beta’d by the wonderful beta’d by the wonderful [phoenix_173>](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_173/pseuds/phoenix_173)

The Prospect of A Good Lamb Roast

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Sam Wilson was in trouble.

Not the usual trouble - there was no-one shooting at him or trying to kill him - but it was trouble nevertheless. 

It was sheep.

Lots and lots of sheep. So many sheep, that it was colloquially known as a whole mob of sheep in these parts.

He glared balefully up the road ahead of him, with the occasional glare into the rear view mirror thrown in for luck.

As far as he could see, in either direction, there were sheep.

He should have been at the new safe house more than three hours ago, but not only had he gotten lost more than once, but someone had decided that it was sheep appreciation day or something, and this was the third mob he'd gotten stuck behind or in the middle of today alone.

And - to make a bad day worse - his car was running on fumes. He was surprised the damn thing was still going.

He was going to demand lamb for dinner when he finally got to his new lodgings. It was the best revenge he could think of.

The loud honking of a horn behind him startled him out of his dream of roast lamb with all the trimmings. An old truck that looked about a century past its use-by-date was slowly making its way along the dirt road, the mob parting like the Red Sea to let it through. It trundled along at a snails pace until it pulled up alongside him.

There was a pause, and then the passenger side window lowered itself into the door with sharp, jerky movements, revealing an empty cabin.

Sam frowned as he pushed the button to lower his own window, sitting up straighter as he peered into the other vehicle.

“Hi!” A head suddenly popped up, and the woman - who must have been lying right across the width of the car to wind the window down - sat up. “Are you Sam?”

“Who’s asking?” It came out sharper than he'd intended, slightly surprised that she had an American accent, when he'd been expecting a local one. He couldn't quite see her properly, but he could make out long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and red lips that stirred something inside him.

“Don't sweat it, dude.” She grinned disarmingly, and scooted closer to his side of her car. “If you  **are** Sam, then I'm Darcy, and I've been looking for you for ages. If not, we can just go our separate ways, and it'll be no worries, mate.” The last three words were spoken in a less than successful attempt at an Australian accent, and he couldn't help smiling. 

“Yeah, I'm Sam. Nice to meet you, Darcy.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Sam.” She glanced up the road. “Do you wanna run the gauntlet and follow me through the mob, or are you more comfortable waiting?”

He followed her glance. There was still no end in sight. “We'll, I'm sick of waiting, and my car’s about to run out of gas-” The car sputtered and died. He slumped. “Make that, and I've just run out of gas.”

Darcy chuckled. “Dude, no worries. You’re already pulled over, so grab your stuff, chuck it in back, and we'll come back for your car when Mr Dillon’s finished moving all the sheep. Come on, chop, chop.”

She scooted back across her car, and before he could so much as blink she was climbing out of her car and walking round the back to open the door of the cage.

He gathered his things from the front seat and got out.

“Just toss that in the front,” she said, coming up the side. “Got much luggage?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, opening the rear door and pulling out his duffle. “Traveling light these days.”

“Dude, tell me about it,” she said as she led him to the cage door. “Brandy, move over. Good girl.” 

An elderly dog stood up from where it had been curled in the corner, moved about three steps, and then flopped back down.

“Don't mind her, she's old and doesn't really work any more but still likes to ride in the ute, so I take her with me whenever I go out.”

Darcy closed the gate, dropped the pin into the lock, and turned to face him. After studying him for a moment she stuck her hand out.

“Darcy Lewis, at your service,” she said.

He took her hand firmly. “Sam Wilson,” he replied, and something tickling at the back of his mind told him that he was probably going to be at  **her** service.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> All images courtesy of Google
> 
> Brandy was one of my Pop’s sheepdogs - she’s long dead now, but can live on in this fic :-) I’ve been on both sides of a mob of sheep like this - in the car, and driving the mob! (Going round the sheep with my Pop was one of my favourite things to do when I was a kid!)
> 
> My Tumblr, if you're interested, is [ibelieveinturtles](http://ibelieveinturtles.tumblr.com/)


End file.
